Earth Unaware (First Formic War)

but he was certain he could have saved a few. It would have been a simple matter of convincing them to flee—which wouldn’t have been that tough of an argument to make, really. Instead, he was cutting them loose and running away, just as he done to Podolski and El Cavador and his own men.
    I am your puppet, Father. Even when you’re billions of klicks away.
    He realized then that there was no one on the ship he could trust. In fact, as long as he worked for Father, he could never trust anyone else under Father’s employ. Father would go to any length and use any person to keep Lem under his control. Ah, Father. Such irony. You probably actually think you’re being a loving, protective parent.
    Lem looked at his reflection in the glass and straightened his jacket.
    This is war, Father. I will never be free of you as long as you own this company and I am under your employ. I am done playing your little life lessons. It’s time I taught you a few of my own.

 
    CHAPTER 24
    Data Cube
    By now, Victor was convinced that everyone in the rehabilitation center thought he was insane. The nurses and orderlies all treated him kindly, but the moment he started talking about hormigas and aliens and the interference in space, they all put on that false smile that said, “Yes, yes. I’m listening to every word you say, Vico, and I believe you.” Which was a lie. If they believed him, they would do something. They would give him back his belongings and send him to someone who could help: a government official, the press, the military, anyone who would take him seriously and help him get a warning to Earth. Instead, the staff all nodded and smiled and treated him like a head case as they wheeled him to his various physical therapy sessions and shot him with meds that were supposed to help rebuild muscle mass.
    So when they told him someone from the Lunar Trade Department was coming to speak with him about his case, Victor allowed himself to hope. Finally. Someone with some authority who can actually help.
    Then they wheeled him into the room where the woman was waiting, and all of Victor’s hope went right out the window. She was way too young. Not much older than him, probably. Either an intern or barely out of college. A nobody in the professional sense.
    “Hello, Victor. I’m Imala Bootstamp.”
    “Who’s your boss?” Victor asked.
    The question caught her off guard. “My boss?”
    “The person you report to. Your superior. It’s a simple question.”
    “Why is that relevant?”
    “It’s absolutely relevant because that is the person I need to be talking to. Actually, I need to be speaking to your boss’s boss’s boss’s boss. But since you probably don’t have access to that person, I’ll start with your boss and we’ll work our way up.”
    She smiled, sat back in her chair, and looked around her. “This seems like a nice facility. They’re taking good care of you?”
    “The bed is comfortable, but I’m a prisoner. The two kind of cancel each other out.”
    She nodded. “Seems clean at least.”
    They were sitting alone in a stark white room with a glass wall and ceiling, affording them a view of the city and the ship traffic high overhead.
    “Haven’t you been here before?” asked Victor “You work with the LTD. You’re a caseworker. All injured immigrants come here. Are you telling me you’ve never actually done this job before?”
    “Let’s say I’m new,” she said.
    He could tell he was annoying her. He didn’t care.
    “Incidentally,” Victor said, “do you actually know who your boss is? Because you seemed rather unsure when I asked a second ago.”
    “I thought I was supposed to be the one asking the questions.”
    “Are you unsure of that, too?”
    She forced a smile. “All right, Victor. If we’re going to be perfectly honest with each other, no, I don’t know who my boss is. I got this assignment about twenty minutes ago from someone who doesn’t even work in Customs. So he’s technically not my boss. I haven’t even been to the Customs offices yet. I came directly here from my previous job. So I don’t even have a computer terminal or a desk or a mail account yet. If the door was locked, I couldn’t get in the building because I don’t yet have an access ring. Fair enough? That’s my résumé.”
    “Wow,” said Victor. “I can’t tell you how much confidence that instills in me to know that my assigned caseworker, the person responsible for getting me out of